Armageddon Hyde in The Chosen and the Damned

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Armageddon Hyde in The Chosen and the Damned Page 7

by Joseph Terra Jr


  The voice belonged to a wizened little man sitting on the steps of a nearby store, half-hidden in shadow. The store had been closed for years, and stood dusty and vacant. The man's eyes were largely vacant as well, but he grinned at Armageddon and beckoned her closer. "Yeah, you need some help, I bet. Come here, I got just what you need..."

  I rather doubt that, Armageddon thought, looking at the man with distaste. He was yet another of Buttefuque's endless parade of ne'er-do-wells, tiny, wild-eyed and dressed in tie-dye. This one looked less sane than most, giggling and scratching, staring at her with wide black eyes as she approached. "Yeah baby, that's it. What'choo need?"

  "What I need is to get in there," Armageddon muttered, hardly listening. She looked back at the factory: it stood there like a rock, taunting her. Hellfire had waltzed in and out like he owned the place, the security guards barely glancing at him as he passed through the door. They knew him by sight; he was clearly a frequent visitor. You rotten swine, Hellfire, she thought. What are you doing walking into that den of sin? Of Biotech sin! She would report him to his elders when this was done, she promised herself that much. Even that heretic Peterson wouldn't stand for the likes of this, she thought. She paused, frowning. Wouldn't he?

  "No need to get in there, baby," the little man said. "Got the good stuff right here. That stuff they do - what's it called - sacrifice or some shit? Stuff is overrated, man. I know - I tried that shit..."

  Armageddon spun towards him. "What? What did you say?"

  "Got the good stuff right here, baby," the man said, fumbling in one of his pockets. "Bargain - uhhh - bargain prices right here..." he dug deeper into his pockets, frowning with consternation. "Shit. I think I'm out. I got some backups, though - " he gave a strangled gasp as Armageddon's hands descended on his collar. "Easy, baby, easy!!"

  Armageddon hauled him to his feet, baggies of various substances scattering to the pavement as she pulled him up on his tiptoes. "If you're making this up, Mister, then this is your last chance to confess it," she said. "But if even one part of what you're telling me is true..."

  "It's true, it's true!" the man wailed. "I mean - I was in there once, a few days back - or maybe it was a week or two, I dunno..."

  "And the rest of it?"

  The man coughed. "Well yeah, um... actually that sacrifice stuff ain't half bad - "

  She shook him. "What happened? What did you do in there?"

  The man wailed. "Easy baby, easy! I don't remember!"

  She dragged him off the steps and bundled him up against a nearby wall. "I think you're lying to me," she said. "I think if you were really inside the factory, you would know - "

  "Trials!" the man blurted. "They had us in there for trials. Me and Rudy, man, we were fresh out of everything and then some guy asked us if we wanted to get high and we said hell yeah, and then they gave us ten bucks and they took us in for trials. Sacrifice, that's what the guy called it. And then the chick with the glasses yelled at him and told him to shut up."

  Armageddon frowned. "They injected you with drugs?"

  "No - the guy used this eye dropper thing... and then there was a spray bottle - I think..." He gave her a pleading look. "Look baby, I won't lie to you. I don't have anything like the shit they gave me. That was some shit, man. It turned my brain inside out, baby. But you know, I thought I had some good molly for you, and I thought that might - you know, make you feel good. But that was the only part that wasn't true..." The man tried his best to give her a winning smile. "Let me go, baby, huh? My shit's rolling away as we speak." He glanced down at his baggies, which were shifting and moving in the wind. "I gotta make a living somehow, right?"

  Armageddon let him go. "I should burn your filthy drugs," she said, but her words lacked any real conviction. She watched as the man gathered up close to a dozen bags of different pills and powders, carefully stowing them in various pockets. "I'm not finished with you yet, Mister. Tell me what happened at these 'trials'." A sudden thought struck her. "Was there a man there? A blond man in a black suit?"

  The man stuffed the last of the drugs out of sight and collapsed back onto the step, looking rather worn out from his exertions. "There was a bunch of suits there, baby," he said. "I dunno, man. I was pretty fucked up." His eyes swam up to hers, which were glaring furiously at him. "Uh... 'scuse my language," he muttered.

  "And so they make it in there," Armageddon said, pointing back at the factory. "You're certain that's the place?"

  "Yeah, that's the place," the man said. "Werner/Roberts. That's where the real stuff is. He gazed at the factory a little wistfully. "Maybe one day, they'll let me back in," he murmured.

  Armageddon sighed. "Good for you," she muttered. "I know they won't be letting me in any time soon."

  The man looked at her, and an unexpectedly shrewd look passed across his face. "They know you, huh?" he nodded. "Yeah. You already blew your cover with them, huh? What are you baby, a spy? Some industrial-espionage-type shit?"

  "Not exactly," Armageddon muttered.

  "Well, what?" the man demanded. "Come on baby, at least tell me that much. I helped you out, didn't I?"

  "I'm more of a private investigator," Armageddon said coldly. "Thank you for your time..."

  She turned and started to walk away, but the man rose to his feet and started after her. "Wait, wait!"

  She spun to face him, cat-quick, and the man flinched back. "Don't you wanna know where Rudy is? I mean, you wanna talk to him too, right?"

  "Rudy? Oh... the other test subject?" Armageddon felt herself blushing slightly. "Um, yes. You know where to find him?"

  The man looked at her sternly. "Baby, forgive me for saying so, but you're not real good at this shit. Yeah, I know where to find him. Rudy's down the open-air market, working the day shift last I heard. The one by Billboard Street, you know?"

  "Yes," Armageddon said, blushing deeper. "I think I know the one."

  "Yeah, well - Rudy's there five days a week,” the man said. "So that's like, uhh... that's like a 5 in 7 chance you'll find him there."

  "And how will I find him? Does he keep a regular place? A stall of some kind?"

  "Naw, baby." The man winked at her, for reasons that weren't entirely clear. "Just ask for Rudy. Everyone round here knows who Rudy is."

  "Pills!" the young man bawled. "Poppers, get your poppers here! Shrooms, Molly, Rodney, getcha Sarah Palin right here! Everything you need, folks! Everything you need for the whooole family!" His eyes alighted on Armageddon as she approached. "Hello, Miss," he said politely. "Can I interest you in some quality pharmaceuticals this evening?" Without waiting for a reply, he turned his head and bawled: "Get your Roofies right here, folks! Vitamin K! Sweet, sweet Quaaludes! Limited supply, bargain basement prices!" He turned back to Armageddon. "Actually, Miss, you look like some 'ludes might do you some good. And since it's Super Friday, that means you get 20% off all second and subsequent - "

  "I'm looking for Rudy," Armageddon growled. "Do you know where Rudy is?"

  "Rudy?" the man blinked. "Oh, he's at his usual spot."

  Armageddon's voice lowered an octave. "And where is that?"

  "Other end of the market," the young man said briskly. "Under the Titties-R-Us billboard. Now, Miss, if you're not buying, I'm gonna have to ask you to move on. This is a place of business - "

  "Nothing would make me happier," Armageddon snapped, turning away.

  It was late afternoon, and the market was in full swing. Armageddon saw men in suits, women in flashy corporate gear, teenagers wearing fast-food outfits and convenience store uniforms (some still with name tags), young women stumbling along in heels and skirts that barely covered the essentials, leather-clad toughs guzzling beer, a long-haired person of indeterminate gender wheeling a shopping cart full of guns and vodka bottles, a shirtless, muscular man walking his dog, both of them wearing fluorescent yellow sunglasses... and the noise, lord save us, the noise. There had to be a hundred boom boxes playing, almost one per stall, each spewing out more
filth than the last. Armageddon shut it out as best she could, shouldering her way through the mob, leaving a trail of angry mutters behind her as she pushed the denizens of Buttfuq aside. Ahead, a line of billboards loomed. Some were for products she couldn't even identify: a near-naked man and woman embraced above what appeared to be a packet of cigarettes - or were they sweets of some kind? The logo ROGUE RUBBERS hovered above the couple's heads. Another proclaimed: THIS SATURDAY NIGHT AT THE ARENA - RUFUS! BAD DOG! KAIZER! AND THE CHAMPION BARKSDALE!!! A third sign appeared to be a public service announcement: A FRIENDLY REMINDER FROM THE BUTTEFUK CITY COUNCIL: PUBLIC URINATION IS PUNISHABLE BY A FIFTY DOLLAR FINE. ENJOY YOUR STAY! She saw a man standing at the sign, his back turned to her... and yes, sure enough...

  She turned her head away, muttering a little prayer under her breath. Lord save me, she thought, I should have left my gun at home.

  Armageddon had never thought she would feel relief at the sight of a billboard proclaiming TITTIES-R-US, but this town just kept surprising her. A young man stood beneath the sign, a blanket laid out in front of him and a swag of pamphlets under his arm. He was rather sharply dressed, at least by the standards of the local merchants: a white suit with black pinstripes and a bright red tie. He was engaged in a vigorous discussion with a young woman, who appeared more than a little eager to get away. "Take a pamphlet," the young man in the suit was saying. "It's all in there."

  "Sure, whatever," the girl muttered. She snatched a pamphlet from the man's outstretched hand and hurried off. Armageddon approached the man in the suit, scanning his face as she did so. She was no expert, but he looked like he might even be sober.

  "Hello?" Armageddon said. "I'd like to, um... buy some drugs."

  The man looked her up and down, frowning.

  "Drugs? I don't sell drugs. I sell medicine."

  "Well, I need drugs," Armageddon snapped. She could feel her face heating up.

  "Wow lady, I really think you do," The man replied. "The name's Rudy, and I absolutely can help you."

  "Wha... I.." Armageddon floundered. This was not going as expected.

  "Methylenedioxymethamphetamine." Rudy said. "That's the ticket. Or maybe some 5-MeO-DMT, just to get you started. How do you feel about toads?"

  Armageddon stared at him.

  "The ancient tribes used toads," Rudy said. "That's how they were so in touch with nature."

  "I don't want to get in touch with nature," Armageddon said. "I want to buy - "

  "Dimethyltryptamine! Climb right out of your skull and experience the radiant energy of the universe!"

  Armageddon tried to keep an expression of horror off of her face. "What are you talking about? I just want..."

  "The key to your spiritual consciousness. Kill the body and the head will die, but if you feed your head the body will follow. Get rid of anxiety, depression, or seizures. Produce Theta Waves and stimulate your immune system. Unlock your creative potential. Reverse dementia. The benefits are endless!"

  While she only understood about one word in five, the way Rudy was talking seemed weirdly familiar. But Armageddon was sure she'd never talked to any psycho nuts like this in the past. She realized Rudy was holding out a pamphlet. Enough of this.

  "Stop babbling," she said, not taking the pamphlet. "I heard you were at Werner Roberts."

  Rudy's eyes went wide.

  "Oh man. Werner Roberts. That was a fucking trip! They said they had something special and holy shit they were right. They came in with this crystal powder and thought it was just going to be another kind of speed..." His eyes went wide and his voice dropped. "But it wasn't. It was nothing like speed."

  Armageddon sighed. Reluctantly, she asked: "What happened to you on the drug? What does it do?"

  Rudy smiled dreamily. "It lets you talk to God."

  "You talked to God," Armageddon said flatly. She should have felt more outrage, but by now she just felt tired. This place, she thought. I've got to get out of this place... "What do you mean?"

  "It takes you to the God-place, man. And after you've been there, things can never be the same..." Rudy looked at her and sighed. "You can be anything, change anything. It's like you're at the motherboard of the matrix, man! Time and space don't matter - you can access it all... no wormhole necessary...". Rudy stopped for a moment. "I can't believe I remember all this," he said. "I feel like there should be some kind of eraser, you know - like once you get this knowledge you can't take it with you..." He grinned. "But I fuckin' took it with me!"

  He stopped grinning and looked her in the eye.

  "If you get the chance to try it, you jump on that shit, you hear me? It's the best thing that ever happened to me. I used to have my doubts, but I have felt God, lady. There is a higher force. And Werner/Roberts knows how to find it."

  Armageddon's fist moved before she even knew what she was doing. Suddenly Rudy was lying on the ground, cursing and clutching his eye.

  "GOD! IS NOT! A DRUG!" Armageddon shouted. She turned to flee from this nightmare market of sin, shaking her hand as she did so. Rudy had a hard head.

  She made it back to her truck, which was parked several blocks away. Enough of these niceties, she thought; enough dirtying her ears listening to every filthy degenerate this town threw her way. Her next step was simple. She was going to drive back to Todd's house; she was going to wait until Hellfire arrived; and then she was going to pistol-whip him until he talked. Enough of the subtleties.

  As she threw the truck into gear, Armageddon did something she had barely done since arriving in this godforsaken town: she smiled.

  War Games

  Appeal to authority is not always a fallacy.

  "Shape up!" the amplified voice yelled. The words, amplified by a bullhorn, cracked and echoed around the basketball gym, making Rudy wince and his skull throb. The bitch had clocked him good - probably given him a concussion. Shit, he thought. Concussion means no E for a week. No Sarah neither. God damn, a week with no Sarah! That crazy bitch is gonna pay for this...

  "Shape up, you goddamn noobs!" the voice shouted. Rows of soldiers sat on the bleachers, looking idly on as the unseen commander bellowed orders at his troops. As Rudy made his way along the sideline, he saw a group of combatants dive for cover behind a small hill - said 'hill' being a weight machine with camo cloth draped over it. "I can see your head sticking out, Johnson, you goddamn scrub!!!" the voice shouted. "How many times do I have to tell you, shitdick!!! If you think you're getting any goddamn upgrade points after this you've got another thing coming, Johnson!!!!!!"

  Rudy didn't give a damn about these RTSs or FSPs whatever they were called, but he glanced over at the hill. Johnson, a redheaded, knock-kneed boy of about eight, pulled his head behind it just as a projectile arced towards his position. It hit with a squelching sound and yellow dye splattered. Johnson turned and yelled something toward the back of the court.

  "I don't care if it didn't get you, you motherfucker!" came the reply. "You disobeyed a direct order! You put my plans in jeopardy! I oughta take you off the roster, you piece of shit!!!"

  A soldier stepped out in front of Rudy. "Hey pal - you need something?"

  "Yeah, I need something," Rudy snapped. "I wanna talk to Guerrero, all right? Guerrero knows me. He knows who I am, all right? Now let me through."

  "He knows you, huh?" the soldier sneered. "Well if the two of you know each other, then you should know the general doesn't like to be disturbed while he's gaming."

  "I don't care if he doesn't like to be disturbed!" Rudy shouted. "I'm here to talk to him! And I won't take no for an answer! I'm here to report a crime and since the army assimilated the police last year and Guerrero runs the army, that means I get to talk to Guerrero!"

  The soldier's eyes grew cool: he looked set to reply, or maybe just black Rudy's other eye, but then a second soldier came wandering up. "Rudy, you pain in the ass," he said. Without waiting for a reply, he turned to his comrade. "Just let him through, man. Trust me - it's easier if you just let
him through."

  The first soldier frowned. "What? What are you talking about?"

  "Shit, Garner, you really are green if you haven't met Rudy yet. Sit down, man. Just let him get it out of his system." He waved Rudy through. "This better be serious, Rude. General's not in the best of moods today."

  "You're damn right it's serious," Rudy snapped. "It's always serious with me. I'm the most serious motherfucker you ever met, Aaronson, and don't you forget it. I've had a crime done to my person and - "

  "Yeah, yeah," Aaronson said, turning away. "See you next week, Rude."

  Rudy made his way to the back of the gym. Guerrero was standing behind a lectern with a Buttfukk flag tacked to one side and the stars and bars on the other, a walkie-talkie in his left hand and a bullhorn in his right. For now he was cursing into the walkie-talkie. "You think you can rush me, you little dipshit? This ain't my first rodeo, man. What are you thinking with that shit?"

  The voice coming out of the walkie-talkie sounded rather nervous, cracking from a high to a low register as it spoke. "I'm just doing the best I can, sir. I'm still pretty new at this, you know? But I really, really want to learn - "

  "Your best sucks," Guerrero snapped. "Now hit pause. I've got a visitor." He set the radio down and bellowed into the loudhailer. "PAUSE! None of you little shits move or I'll have you in the brig." He turned, looking at Rudy straight on for the first time, and then heaved a sigh. "Oh, shit, man. What is it this time?"

  "I'm here to report an assault," Rudy said. "Someone put hands on me, man. At my place of business!"

  Guerrero eyed Rudy's right eye, which was swelling nicely. "You piss someone off, Rudy? You corner them and start talking about toads and shit?"

  "I was conducting business!" Rudy said, wounded. "She came to me, man. And she said she was buying!"

  Guerrero giggled. "Wait, wait... so you got punched out a by a chick?"

  "She had a good left hand," Rudy muttered, touching his eye and wincing.

  "You asshole, Rudy. You were trying to get her on E, huh? Open her up to her inner sensuality or some shit." The general giggled.

 

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